CHAPTER XII.

THE WINDING UP OF THE MATTER.

Nothing new under the sun

SOLOMON.

A FEW years ago, within the compass of my narrative, there appeared
often in some of our New England villages, professed fugitives from slavery, who recounted
their personal experience in homely phrase, and awakened the indignation of non-slaveholders
against brother Pro. Such a one appeared in the new home of Frado; and as people of color were
rare there, was it strange she should attract her dark brother; that he should inquire her out;
succeed in seeing her; feel a strange sensation in his heart towards her; that he should toy with
her shining curls, feel proud to provoke her to smile and expose the ivory concealed by thin,
ruby lips; that her sparkling eyes should fascinate; that he should propose; that they should
marry? A short acquaintance was indeed an objection, but she saw

him often, and thought she knew him. He never spoke of his enslavement
to her when alone, but she felt that, like her own oppression, it was painful to disturb oftener
than was needful.

He was a fine, straight negro, whose back
showed no marks of the lash, erect as if it never crouched beneath a burden. There was a silent
sympathy which Frado felt attracted her, and she opened her heart to the presence of love -- that
arbitrary and inexorable tyrant.

She removed to Singleton, her
former residence, and there was married. Here were Frado's first feelings of trust and repose on
human arm. She realized, for the first time, the relief of looking to another for comfortable
support. Occasionally he would leave her to "lecture."

Those
tours were prolonged often to weeks. Of course he had little spare money. Frado was again
feeling her self-dependence, and was at last compelled to resort alone to that. Samuel was kind
to her when at home, but made no provision for his absence, which was at last unprecedented.

He left her to her fate -- embarked at sea,

with the disclosure that he had never seen the South, and that his illiterate
harangues were humbugs for hungry abolitionists. Once more alone! Yet not alone. A still
newer companionship would soon force itself upon her. No one wanted her with such
prospects. Herself was burden enough; who would have an additional one?

The horrors of her condition nearly prostrated her, and she was
again thrown upon the public for sustenance. Then followed the birth of her child. The long
absent Samuel unexpectedly returned, and rescued her from charity. Recovering from her
expected illness, she once more commenced toil for herself and child, in a room obtained of a
poor woman, but with better fortune. One so well known would not be wholly neglected. Kind
friends watched her when Samuel was from home, prevented her from suffering, and when the
cold weather pinched the warmly clad, a kind friend took them in, and thus preserved them. At
last Samuel's business became very engrossing, and after long desertion, news reached his family
that he had become a victim of yellow fever, in New Orleans.

So much toil as was necessary to sustain
Frado, was more than she could endure. As soon as her babe could be nourished without his
mother, she left him in charge of a Mrs. Capon, and procured an agency, hoping to recruit her
health, and gain an easier livelihood for herself and child. This afforded her better maintenance
than she had yet found. She passed into the various towns of the State she lived in, then into
Massachusetts. Strange were some of her adventures. Watched by kidnappers, maltreated by
professed abolitionists, who didn't want slaves at the South, nor niggers in their own houses,
North. Faugh! to lodge one; to eat with one; to admit one through the front door; to sit next one;
awful!

Traps slyly laid by the vicious to ensnare her, she
resolutely avoided. In one of her tours, Providence favored her with a friend who, pitying her
cheerless lot, kindly provided her with a valuable recipe, from which she might herself
manufacture a useful article for her maintenance. This proved a more agreeable, and an easier
way of sustenance.

And thus, to the present time, may you see

her busily employed in preparing her merchandise; then
sallying forth to encounter many frowns, but some kind friends and purchasers. Nothing turns
her from her steadfast purpose of elevating herself. Reposing on God, she has thus far journeyed
securely. Still an invalid, she asks your sympathy, gentle reader. Refuse not, because some part
of her history is unknown, save by the Omniscient God. Enough has been unrolled to demand
your sympathy and aid.

Do you ask the destiny of those
connected with her early history? A few years only have elapsed since Mr. and Mrs. B.
passed into another world. As age increased, Mrs. B. became more irritable, so that no one, even
her own children, could remain with her; and she was accompanied by her husband to the home
of Lewis, where, after an agony in death unspeakable, she passed away. Only a few months
since, Aunt Abby entered heaven. Jack and his wife rest in heaven, disturbed by no intruders;
and Susan and her child are yet with the living. Jane has silver locks in place of auburn tresses,
but she has the early love of Henry still, and has never

regretted her exchange of lovers. Frado has passed from their memories, as Joseph from the
butler's, but she will never cease to track them till beyond mortal vision.